


Confession

by AllTrekkedUp



Category: The Life and Legend of Wyatt Earp
Genre: Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gen, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts, Terminal Illnesses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:01:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25307152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllTrekkedUp/pseuds/AllTrekkedUp
Summary: Doc Holliday is having a dark day until Wyatt Earp comes to visit.
Relationships: Wyatt Earp/Doc Holliday
Kudos: 19





	Confession

**Author's Note:**

> I have been writing fics that attach to the show for years but this is the first I have ever posted. I hope to find some other fans out there, and I hope everyone enjoys this.

It was a heavy downpour on the streets of Tombstone, a quiet hotel room, half a bottle in didn't touch the pain. There was a knock on the door, he scoffed, knowing it was Wyatt, if it was nine or noon, three or six it was always Wyatt. The door opened with a key, only two of the damn things existed and he regretted giving Wyatt the other one. He sat back in a chair by the bed, sloppily dressed with a glass in his hand and the window curtains open. Didn't look at the tall, lean figure that came to rest in the door frame, hands on his gun belt, hat pushed back.

"You haven't been out today," he said.

"No. Nor do I intend to go unless I'm being carried to boot hill," he says, tips the glass back.

"It's better that way I guess. Rain ain't good for your condition," Wyatt said.

"Nothing is good for my condition, Wyatt. Nothing is good for me, except death. I am waiting for it here, waiting for it to come through that door or maybe through the window. But I've only gotten you. Are the angel of death, deacon?" he asked, sleep deprived eyes turning in his direction with only the slightest of smirks.

Wyatt's face changed, fear always gripped him when Doc talked like that. "You've had too much to drink, Doc," he cautioned. 

He scoffed. "I've not had nearly enough. Death would be a comfort, but since it is slothful, whiskey will have to do."

Wyatt walked over to the window and took the other seat that was there. "You're just feeling down today is all. I'll order us some food and we can talk, you'll feel better," he assured. But it was mostly for himself.

"I don't have any taste for nourishment, why eat? Why talk? I've been cursed, God gave me the mark of Cain, a slow death with pain mixed in. I have nothing to live for, perhaps I should kill myself and get it over with?" he gripped his glass.

Wyatt's eyes looked troubled. "Don't say that, Doc. Don't ever say that! I don't know how I would get along without you," he confessed.

"You're a good friend, Wyatt. The best a man could ever have. You shouldn't waste your precious time on a dying man," he drawled.

"I love you, Doc," Wyatt spoke in a low but sincere tone.

He looked at him. "Confessions of love are only meant for lovers."

"Yes," Wyatt confirmed.

They looked at each other for several heartbeats, saying nothing. He looked away finally, sat the glass down on the bedside table.

"Are you going to order that food or do I have too?" he asked.

Wyatt smiled and stood. "I will. I'll be right back," he said.

He took a deep breath, it was not followed by a cough, it didn't seem to hurt as much as it had some minutes ago. The heavy downpour continued, but only in the streets now.

THE END.


End file.
